


A Night Among Friends

by Mandergee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, It's a hangout kinda thing, Plot What Plot, friendship fic, slight spoilers for age of ultron, there's really no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Mandergee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once in a while the gang gathers together- with the absence of a few- to hang out and just be bros. This is one of those situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night Among Friends

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to make it sort of ridiculous, so the odd pairing will make sense.

“Then there was that mission when you forgot the bag in the car, and we had to improvise.” Melinda raised her bottle, tapped the frosty neck against Phil's in a gesture that signified yet another one of their signature 'We remember everything' moments- the kind that Natasha always frowned at, and that time was no different. Maria glanced at the long legged redhead, lounging in a papasan chair to her left, and suppressed her own grin at the predictability. “I don't think I've ever seen a man whose legs looked _quite_ as good in pantyhose as yours did, Barton.”

“Not my fault that the only dress we could find was a size twenty-four.” Coulson grinned, slung his leg over Melinda's and chuckled as her fingers found their way beneath the cuff of his suit pants. They'd been together now... _for four years? Five?_ Maria couldn't remember anymore- the years blurred together with a kind of smooth transition that she'd almost forgotten existed, and once they'd gone their separate ways when S.H.I.E.L.D disbanded the world had begun to take on an almost normal rhythm again. Birthdays, Christmases, a baptism for Clint's _sixth_ child...things she'd never thought she'd have after joining with Fury, and things she hadn't realized she'd missed so much. “I think you looked pretty good in Laura Ashley.”

“I think I look better in Laura-”

“If you make another joke about sex with your incredibly willing wife, Barton, I'm tossing this empty bottle at your head.” Melinda tossed the remainder of her beer back with a snort, laughing as Coulson took his turn at sneaking agile fingers beneath the cuff of _her_ pantleg. The evening had been full of innuendos, most of which came from the longest married- the _only_ married- in the group, his comments about his wife getting deep groans from the majority, although the occasional appearance of Laura Barton herself meant he was also the recipient of several gentle slaps to the back of the head. “Not all of us are regular passengers on the sex train.”

“I never heard _you_ complain before. Coulson not keeping you satisfied?”

“I swear, if this is all you guys are going to do all night, I'm getting a room at the Hilton.” Natasha shifted, eyes widening as the chair tilted slightly on its base, and Coulson shifted his legs to reach out and push the entirety back into place with a stockinged toe. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, May- I don't think I've ever heard you complain about not getting any. In fact-” Maria swallowed a mouthful of foamy beer and glanced pointedly at Coulson's groin area, arching an eyebrow suggestively. “I'm pretty sure you used the terms _like a Clark bar_ and _fills me up like a Snickers_.”

“I did not.”

“You're comparing me to candy.” It wasn't a question Coulson posed, and the room filled with chuckles as he glanced at May, a measure of horror on his face. After a second the expression changed, and with a collective whoop the gathered group watched him easily flip his girlfriend into his lap and kiss her passionately. “What do you say we head upstairs?”

“Could you all keep it down? What did I say about group sex and not telling me?” Laura Barton appeared in the doorway, caught the offered fingers of her husband from his overstuffed armchair, and let him pull her down onto his own lap with a chuckle and a kiss. “And what did I just hear about going upstairs?”

“Those two-” Natasha shook her head, glanced up at the clock on the wall with a sigh. “Were just leaving. I hope.”

“He won't be here for another ten Nat.” She'd been waiting, Maria recalled, for the sound of Happy Hogan's motorcycle to come tearing up the driveway, and the impatience hadn't lessened even despite his call an hour before. The clock had hardly moved in the last few minutes, and the constant staring on Natasha's end wasn't making it go any faster.“Stark keeps him busy.”

“If he'd hurry up and get here, _I'll_ keep him busy.” The relationship had been a surprise- moreso, her friend reflected, on Natasha than anyone else. The undercover op at Stark Industries was long ago, but somehow Hogan had managed to reconnect with her years later, and in the odd pairing a love had developed that was more comfortable on the two of them than it had been imagined. But Hogan still worked for Stark Industries, and while his own duties had shifted...he still kept busy enough that his presence at the occasional gatherings was sometimes missed.

“Who's getting antsy now?” Laura pressed a finger to her husband's lips, followed Natasha's glance to the clock, and wriggled her way out of Clint's lap. “Hey.”

“I've got a pie in the oven. And I know how fond Happy is of rhubarb, so I'd like to make sure it isn't overdone.” Laura Barton was fond of Happy in a different way- the other surprise being that Happy Hogan had offered to teach the eldest Barton child how to box, something that kept him not only out of trouble when his father was away but allowed him to fend off the childhood bullies he'd run into. School was no easier than it had been for his parents, and Maria could remember clearly the frustration Clint had voiced at the knowledge that his son was facing bullies that were far more vicious than his own childhood terrors had been.

“How _is_ Stark, anyway?” They rarely saw Tony Stark _or_ Pepper those days- the two of them busier running the company and jetsetting from coast to coast than ever before, and Maria's employment as security chief at SI made her the only authority on their well being when Happy wasn't available. Melinda still wasn't a fan- but Coulson had somehow become friends with the pair, Pepper joking often that if they hadn't both found their significant other she might have eventually run off with 'Agent Agent' at the first available opportunity. _That stupid nickname isn't going anywhere for a long time_. Tony still insisted on calling him 'Agent', but Phil laughed it off...and Melinda tried. “Still in Alaska?”

“Pepper managed to convince him to take a week in Paris- she's setting up a new branch of SI, and he's trying for a sassy french Jarvis.” The debacle with Ultron left the room full of grimaces at the mention of Tony messing with anything artificial intelligence related, but Pepper's knowledge of the incident had left _her_ keeping her new husband on a short technological leash. _Electrical fence, even_ , Maria thought with a grin. “They'll be back in a week- Pepper made me promise to have a poker night when they're settled.”

“Sounds great,” Coulson started, but Melinda held her hand up and winked in Maria's direction.

“Girls night.”

“Come on.” Clint glanced in the direction his wife was headed, arched his eyebrow as she wiggled her butt suggestively before disappearing through the archway to the kitchen. “I've been dying to get a good game going for a few _months_ , Hill.”

“And you guys always manage to turn it into some sort of dick-measuring contest, so we decided to keep it a little more...demure.”

“Who's demure?” At the pointed comment Natasha threw a pillow in his direction, and Clint grinned at the gesture that followed. “Nat, I'm still married- you know that.”

“Shut up, Barton. I think I hear something.” Her face lit, and Natasha leapt over the arm of her chair with an enthusiastic whoop before flying toward the front door to fling it open and burst out into the settling dark. “Hogan! Took you long enough!”

“Another happy ending.” Melinda's laugh filled the room as Coulson whispered in her ear, and with a suggestive grin she pulled herself out of his lap, threading her fingers through his to pull him along. “Same guest room we took last time, Clint? Someone else is looking for a happy ending of his own.”

“I'd tell you to get a room, but-” As her eyes narrowed, Clint nodded and gestured with one arm behind him. “Same one. Up the stairs, to the right. And I just had the walls painted- so no shit like you pulled last time, Coulson. No one needs to know how flexible you are in your old age.”

“You're going to miss Hogan,” Maria commented, and let her hand fall over the edge of her chair to catch Melinda's fingers in a fluttering high five as the pair moved past.

“He'll be here in the morning.” Melinda glanced at the doorway for a moment, then continued up the stairs, calling behind her. “And so will we, Barton- so skip the wake up call.”  
“Not a problem. I have a feeling you've got that part handled, May.” The retort was the loud slamming of a door, and what Maria could only assume was the sound of a body being pushed firmly up against it. “Something I said?”

“You're a stitch, Barton.” Her drink was nearly gone, and Maria pulled herself out of the chair to head into the kitchen, listening for the familiar sounds of May and Coulson overhead. The pair had a history- one she envied- and the past gatherings had all ended the same way...with the need to redecorate Clint's guest room.

Poker night was going to be quiet...and as she poured a glass of bourbon from the dining room bar, Maria wondered if rethinking the girls night might _not_ be the worst idea. Maybe, she mused, she might have a bit of luck at getting Coulson to send word to one of Thor's Asgardian friends.

Who, she imagined, probably had _amazing_ arms. After all...they _were_ gods.


End file.
